Slivers of Hope
by celticProtagonist
Summary: Death is beginning to lose hope when he seems no further to clearing his brother's name. In the broken shell of one of Earth's city, Death stumbles upon a sole survivor of the Human Race and for once he's willing to give hope a try. This takes place mid Darksiders 2.
1. Chapter 1

I'm... I'm just gonna leave this here because I actually kind of like it. Has this premise been done a million times already? Yes. Do I care? No, not really. I like to think this one will be a little different than any one you've seen. Hope you lovely people like it!

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

Death ripped the point of a scythe from the flesh of a fallen undead. The cry of a Suffering pierced the stagnant air and the remaining corpses of the Swarm fled from Death at the call of their master. He sighed heavily, hanging the duel scythes at his sides. The unending Swarm was slowing him down, the pieces of the Rod of Arafel still lost among the ruins of the Third Kingdom. Dust cawed to him from a distant streetlight and Death turned, fighting back his mounting frustration. _The Rod first, _he chided himself.

The clattering of loose stone was loud in the sudden silence. Nerves still on edge from the battle, the rider turned, weapons in hand, in time to see a small shape frozen among the debris. Though its details were hidden behind the city's perpetual haze, Death felt eyes locked with his own. A heartbeat passed before the figure bolted like a startled animal. Not wanting to risk what was potentially a scout escape to bring the horde down upon him again, Death bounded after it, moving fluidly over the debris covered streets, swiftly gaining. His own ease contrasted greatly with his prey who seemed to lack the alien animalistic grace of the fallen horde; in fact, it moved with ungainly desperation, tripping over cracks in the hot tarmac, just barely maintaining its footing. Strange.

Finally, with a shriek, it tumbled and hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop to lie still. Curious now more than cautious, Death slowed his gait. The figure was a little blotch of black against the ground, curled in on itself as it recovered from its fall. Hearing the heavy tread of the rider, it flinched and stumbled, trying to regain its feet. The rider got there first, stooping down and wrapping bony fingers around a cloth collar. It let out a rough, though distinctly feminine scream as it was lifted effortlessly off the ground.

Death's eyes widened ever so slightly at the young human girl that squirmed in his grasp. She was small, just barely into womanhood, her feet dangling a good foot and a half above the ground. Blue eyes were wide with primal fear in a thin dirty face framed by short unkempt brown. Her fingers tugged at the front of her black jacket, desperately trying to keep the collar from digging into her throat as she twisted in an attempt to break free. "Well, what have we here?" he pondered as the girl wriggled and kicked, breath heaving beneath snarls and whimpers. The sound of moving metal made her freeze, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the wickedly curved blade being brought about, slowly and deliberately. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing luck and angels and demons and the _universe_ for whatever it was she had gotten herself into. The pain of the blade ripping into her never came, but instead she heard the guttural screams of one of the Swarm and felt hot blood splash against her back. She peeked a lid open to see one of the muscled arms of her captor reaching behind her, the hand gripping the shaft of a short scythe whose blade protruded from the neck of the undead behind her.

Death yanked back, tearing the blade from undead flesh. He had just heard the click of a loaded gun when the head of yet another one of the Swarm exploded just behind his shoulder. The girl, still hanging from his grasp, held her collar back with one hand and held a smoking handgun in the other. They locked eyes for a silent moment. The was a hardness beneath the frightened blue, one that he had similarly seen in the eyes of those who lived through traumatic events. Death wondered what she saw is his.

"Put me down," it took the rider just a moment to realize that the quiet reedy voice came from the girl. She seemed to have recovered from her shock and was now staring with a rather annoyed expression.

"I hardly think you're in a position to be making demands," he replied, fighting back the temptation to give her a good shake. She gaze darted to the gap between the ground and her feet, then up and down the street, then back at him.

"Well, are you gonna kill me, or not?" she shifted uncomfortably, doing her best to keep the zipper at bay, "Cus if you're not, than I'd _appreciate_ it if you put me down."

Huh, plucky. She yelped as she was unexpectedly dropped from his bony fingers and landed on her backside. Feeling his eyes on her, the girl rose and backed away slowly, cautiously, only turning her back on him long enough to pry an old hunting rifle from where it had become wedged beneath the debris from her tumble. She didn't stop moving as she slung it over her shoulder, keeping the rider under a suspicious eye. Death watched her back but didn't make a move; it was obvious she was skittish and if her presence meant what he thought it did, he didn't want to make an enemy of her.

The air itself shook as a monstrous roar reverberated off the buildings. The girl froze, eyes sweeping the ruined landscape. She held her breath in the silence that followed, slowly fitting another clip into her handgun as she began to count. _1, 2, 3, 4_- Again, the cry pierced the air; its source the enormous four-armed demon that leapt from rooftop to rooftop. "Shit," she cursed under her breath. Death saw her tense to flee again and moved first, grabbing hold of her hood. She tried and failed to shake off his hand and glowered at him, lip pulling into a snarl and fingers tightening around her weapon. "What do you want?! Just leave me alone already!" she spat. He was silent, analyzing her with intense eyes.

She was really rather tiny, just barely reaching his shoulder. She was covered in dust and grime and appeared gaunt and sleep deprived, if the thin face and shadowed eyes were any evidence. She resembled a frightened animal, a deer caught in the headlights. Death could hardly believe it, was certain he should not believe it given the circumstances, but here it was: true evidence of his brother's innocence. She fidgeted beneath his gaze, casting glances over her shoulder for potential threats. _How long has she been here? _Death could not help but ponder. "You are truly human…" he said in a slow voice, more a confirmation that a question. Her face twisted into a disgruntled expression.

"Of course I am," she snapped, voice tight as a steel wire, "do I _look_ like one of those walking meat puppets to you?"

"I was led to believe that humans were annihilated."

"Well, hate to disappoint you, but here I am," she twitched again, ready to bolt at the slightest shadow, already hearing the screams of the Swarm ringing in her ears, "but I'm not gonna be for much longer if you don't let me go!"

But he couldn't just let her go, could he? This one girl could potentially help to prove his brother's innocence, but already her life, and his hope, was in danger. Another roar rent the air, much closer than before, startling Death from his contemplations and allowing her to break free. Already the girl had bolted past him as the screams of the Swarm quickly escalated. Making a split-second decision, Death took off after her, easily catching up and matching her pace. She gave him an irritated glance and looked over her shoulder to see the Swarm rapidly gaining. She swore sharply, ripped open a pouch on her hip. She hooked her finger into the ring of a grenade, yanked it out and threw it over her shoulder. Death continued to follow her as she skidded across the pavement and took a turn into an alley and hopped the chain link fence. An explosion shook the street behind them and the Swarm screamed in pain and frustration, no doubt having lost their quarry in the ensuing dust cloud.

Death looked back and found the girl gone. Walking out into the street, he kept his senses open for the small human. His ears caught a long stream of cursing coming from nearby and followed it until he spotted the girl sitting against a wall inside of an abandoned store front. She was rifling through her bag with angry movements, muttering something about wasted ammunition and worthless undead. Her head snapped up at the sound of breaking glass. "Goddammit!" she seethed as Death stepped through the shattered window, "Why are you following me?!"

"I have a proposition to make," he said, un-phased by the feral snarl from the girl as he stepped further into the shop, the thought of his next move finally presenting itself, "you seem to know this city rather well and I am looking for something. Assist me and I can protect you from the Swarm." The girl snorted, swiftly returning the supplies to her bag, and rose swinging the rifle back over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I don't make deals from demons," she spat as she swept past him and vaulted through the broken window. Death hadn't been expecting her to comply that easily.

"And if I were to tell you I'm not a demon?" she looked him up and down, taking in the skull shaped mask and the large blades at his sides.

"Not convinced. Besides," she shrugged, "even if you weren't, it doesn't mean you won't try to kill me. You may not have the first time, but I'm not one to push my luck." She huffed and turned her back on him. "Hope I never see you again!"

"You're alone, aren't you?" he called over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her freeze, her back tense.

"What do you care?" she asked sharply, refusing to look his way, "I've been doing fine on my own."

"But you won't stay that way," he warned her, cautiously moving toward her, "the Swarm will catch you eventually. If you are truly one of the last of your people, it may be in your best interest to remain alive." The girl didn't answer, but she appeared deep in thought. When enough time had passed and Death was about to speak again, she finally turned to look at him suspiciously. Her eyes were narrowed with acute distrust. She couldn't quite decide what she thought of this terrifying stranger. The fact that he hadn't decapitated her first chance he got confused her greatly, and she was even more dumbfounded by the fact that he had spoken to her. Only the smart demons spoke, and they rarely left their lairs. They ruled the world now; she was hardly a threat. Besides, she was tired or running all the time.

"…Fine," she conceded with reluctance, figuring that if he could truly protect for a while it might be worth it. And, if he decided to try something, she could always put a bullet in his head. "What is it that you're looking for exactly?" Death allowed himself a satisfied smirk, undetectable behind his mask.

"Good decision. I'm looking for an artifact of angelic origin. It's been shattered into three pieces, being used as power sources for the demons. Know of them?" The girl listened carefully, raising a hand to bite on ruined nails as she thought.

"Yeah," she began slowly, "I think I might know what you're talking about." She turned her back on him to walk to the middle of the street. She brought her hands to her eyes, shielding them from the intense sunlight, and slowly turned in a circle trying to get her bearings. With a curt nod she gestured him over. "If I remember correctly, there was one tucked away in a back alley on the Lower East Side," she stretched out an arm and pointed to a gap in the buildings that offered a view of the blackened ocean, "the Brooklyn Bridge is over there which means we need to head east toward the water. I'm gonna guess that the more demons we run into, the closer we get huh?" Death nodded.

"Most likely they will be heavily guarded. However, lucky for us, demons are not known for their tactfulness. It should be easy enough to clear them out." The girl eyed the twin scythes strapped to his waist. From what little she had seen of him as she watched from her hiding place before, he was certainly able to take care of himself. She made a note to stay as far away from those sharp blades as she could. She took the lead, ensuring that there was a good five feet of space between them.

It was silent for a long time as they began their trek across the city, until a loud squawk announced Dust's return, dropping from the sky to settle on Death's shoulder. "And where have _you_ been?" Death shot at him. The enormous crow ignored him to preen the feathers of his wing. His sudden appearance had made the girl jump, and she surveyed the new arrival with a mix of alarm and anxiety.

"…Who's your friend?" she asked nervously as the bird stopped his grooming and fixed her with a beady black stare. Death noted her expression with a degree of amusement.

"This is Dust," he answered, "don't mind him, he's really quite harmless."

"…I think he's glaring at me," indeed, the big black bird almost appeared to glower at the girl, beady eyes narrowed. Death gave a hollow laugh.

"I think he's afraid that you're going to shoot him," he replied and Dust gave a raspy croak as if in confirmation.

"I won't… unless he gives me a reason to," she said as she readjusted the rifle on her shoulder. Dust puffed up at the gestured and flapped to Death's other shoulder, putting his master's head between his own and the barrel of the girl's gun. "_Coward_," she mumbled under her breath, "So who are you anyway?" she asked loud enough for him to hear, "You say you're not a demon, not that I'm convinced, but if you're not, than why are you here?"

Death hesitated. He knew that eventually she would have to know the most of the story if he wished to elicit her help. Finally he spoke; "I am Death," the girl nearly tripped, only to regain her footing and keep walking, if not a little further away from him than before, "and the only reason I'm here is to find a way forward. There is something I must do, and this is just yet another crack in the road." He tried his best to keep the irritation from his voice. All of these side trips were beginning to wear on his patience. When the girl was silent, he spoke again, "You know, when people introduce themselves, it's polite to do the same." She merely scoffed and gave him a humorless grin.

"Yeah right," she said, "sorry, but I've heard the stories about what happens when you give your name to demons" Death shrugged, the motion earning him a squawk from Dust.

"As I've said before, I'm not really a demon, but I suppose that's a wise notion," he answered, "It seems you humans are at least a bit smarter than they say." He saw the way the jibe made the girl's face pinch in anger, but cut her off before she could make the biting retort she felt bubbling in her throat, "You asked a question, now let me ask you one. Are you truly alone? Surely in a city this large there are more of you."

She bit her lip before answering, "There _were _others. Groups of people, who organized, tried to fight back. You can probably guess how long _they_ lasted. It was really every man for himself. I learned not to trust anyone. People were desperate. You made a deal with someone hoping that it would keep you safe, and then as soon as your back is turned you get a knife in the ribs. I didn't survive this long by trusting people." Her eyes turned dark, her voice bitter. Clearly she had experience in the matter.

"And how _did _you survive this long?" he prodded. She was silent for a moment, as reluctant as he had been to reveal anything.

"Luck," she answered simply, "and a lot of bullets. But mostly luck. Made sure I knew how to defend myself. A good thing too. The ones who didn't were the first to die." There was dryness to the way she said it. "It's been, what, two years now? As far as I know, everyone else is gone."

For the rider, two years didn't seem very long, but for a girl who was only human, it must have seemed very long indeed. A long time to be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone, if you like the Darksiders universe, go check out _The Abomination Vault_. It's a good little light-read novel with far better characterization than you'll get in the games. You'll get some fantastic sassy banter on Death's part, plus Azreal is there, and who doesn't love him? You can find a PDF file of it for free if you know where to look!

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

Death observed the girl in silence as she led him through the ruined city. Her back and shoulders were tense and she fidgeted frequently, her eyes darting back and forth. She jumped at the slightest noise. A frightened animal.

They moved cautiously; already, the concentration of demons and undead humans had grown thicker. The girl didn't take chances and immediately put a bullet though the skull of anything vaguely demonic if it got just a bit too close. At the same time, she kept an eye on the rider, always remaining far enough away to make a break for it if need be. She couldn't help but be impressed by his abilities; he could mow down an entire squadron of demons in 30 seconds flat. That was the first thing that made her question his motives.

"Hey," she finally called to him when the streets were cleared, "It's in there." She pointed ahead of her, straight into the mouth of a dark alley that overflowed with the stench of demons, almost overpowering the tinge of something bright underneath. "After you," she said, a hint of a sneer on her face.

"What, you're not coming?" Death retorted with an equal amount of snide. She snorted in reply.

"Yeah, no. Another way I stayed alive was to _not _waltz into demon-infested nests. I'll stay out here, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself, more for me," he strode casually forward, sliced the demons guarding the entrance in half in a flash of steel and went to work. The girl hung back, peeking around the corner to witness the blood and carnage. It was really almost funny how little of a chance the demons stood against the wrath of the rider.

_Squawk! _She turned sharply to see Death's giant crow hunched on the bars of a half destroyed bike rack, glaring at her with those mean little eyes.

"What do _you _want bird?" she snapped at it. Dust croaked low in his throat, and the girl thought it could have counted as a growl. "So what, you scared of the demons so you go after the girl instead?" She demanded and the crow's feathers seemed to bristle. She swore the glare the bird shot her was almost accusatory.

"Who me? I've got the whole 'Last of Humanity' thing going for me. What's your excuse?" Dust's next squawk was so sharp and loud that the girl was afraid that the demons would hear. "Alright, alright, I get it!" she hissed, "Demons are freaky, I understand! I've been running from them long enough to know that." She didn't even know why she bothered talking to the bird, but there was a glint in Dust's eye that gave the impression of intelligence. Dust hopped a bit closer, making a strange clucking sound deep in his throat.

"Alright, look, I think we got off on the wrong foot before," she said casually, pushing herself off the wall and crouching on the pavement to see eye-to-eye with the crow. "How 'bout this? I'll promise not to shoot you, if you promise not to try and peck my eyes out in my sleep. Sound good to you?" Dust bobbed his head in that strange way that birds do, but the girl took that as an agreement.

Guttural screams of rage and pain still echoed off the walls of the alley. "Sheesh, what's he doing in there?" she muttered, moving back to the corner. She almost jumped out of her skin when Dust's weight suddenly settled on her shoulder and he croaked, almost as if saying _Yay, a new perch!_ She couldn't see past the wall of black feathers that blocked her vision.

"Geez, you're heavier than I thought you'd be," she told him, and Dust simple ruffled his feathers and looked away as if to say, _I don't know what you're talking about_. The girl shook her head. "You are the strangest crow I have ever seen."

An earsplitting screech split the air and both girl and bird jumped. The shriek was silenced with a disgusting wet _squelch _and then it was quiet. Death came strolling from the alleyway, his bare chest splattered with blood and his blades glistening red in the sunlight. A shining white rod was clenched in his bony hand. He raised a brow at the sight of Dust sitting comfortably on the girl's shoulder. "Did I miss something?" he asked and the girl shot the crow a look from the corner of her eye.

"We've kind of come to a mutual understanding. Though I think it was just part of his plan to get a back-up shoulder." Dust gave an offended croak and fluttered up to his normal perch on Death's shoulder.

"Well, I've got what I came for," he gestured with the rod, "The two of you can bond more as we search for the next piece."

"So what _is_ it exactly?" She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering near the shining surface of the rod, but never quite touching.

"An artifact called the Rod of Arafel," Death replied, turning the rod over in his hands, noting the way that light emanating from every inch of it. What was with angels and their need to make everything glow? "Apparently it has the ability to purge Corruption. An angel told me that it would assist me in finding what I'm looking for." The girl's face scrunched up in distaste at the word 'angel'. "Ah, I see you've found that angels are not nearly as benevolent as your people have made them out to be."

"The angels were nearly as bad as the demons at the beginning," she shook her head, her nose crinkled as though she had tasted something sour, "People saw them and thought they were here to protect us. But when they started cutting us down, we knew we were screwed." she pulled away, arms tight against her chest. "I'd rather not have anything to do with them."

"Believe me, if I didn't have to neither would I," sticking the rod through his belt, "but much is at stake if I don't," his voice became quiet until he caught the girl scrutinizing him. "Come, we still have another two pieces to find." He took off without checking to see if she was following him, but she could hear her struggling to keep up with her considerably shorter legs.

"So, are you gonna like, tell me why you're going on this stupid fetch quest? Or do you just expect me to follow you around like a lost puppy?"

In spite of not actually knowing what half of what she said referred to, the rider supposed he would have to tell her _something_ if he wanted to keep her around. The question was just how _much_ he should tell her.

"It's… a family matter," he said slowly, "my brother has been accused of a crime he did not commit. I intend to prove his innocence."

"And how are you gonna do that?"

"You ask an awful lot of questions, do you know that?"

"I'd personally like to know what it is I'm risking life and limb for by following you around," she snapped, stepping in front to stop him, "I could always just ditch you instead."

She met his glare quite evenly, only flinching slightly when those fiery eyes locked onto hers. So he still frightened her. Good. He sighed impatiently. "I simply intend to erase him crime. If there is no crime, my brother cannot be persecuted."

The look the girl gave him in reply was the definition of incredulous. "I'm not even going to start on how much that doesn't make sense," she shook her head and turned around, "sorry I even asked."

Death didn't think she would drop it that easily, but there was no doubt she'd try again later. At least he had bought enough time to think up what he was going to reveal to her.

It wasn't two hours later when the girl began to yawn. She stopped in the street, squinting into the sunset, and promptly refused to move even when Death began to argue.

"Time is not something we have on our side, girl," he hissed, "We need to keep moving."

She yawned in reply and rubbed at her eyes, giving the rider an exasperated look. "Look, I don't know how much you know about humans, but we're not built to just keep going and going," she snapped, "I've been operating for the last five days on about 10 hours of sleep and if I don't stop for at least a little while there's a good chance I'm just going to keel over. Either you put up with me getting a few measly hours of shuteye, of you can go on without me!" She crossed her arms and glared coldly. Clearly she wasn't going anywhere.

Death bit back a frustrated sigh. Humans were fragile he had to remind himself. As much as he wanted to leave this liability of a girl behind and continue on his own he was loath to do so. If he left the girl now there was a good chance that he would never see her again. "Fine," he ground out through clenched teeth, "a few hours, but that's it. It is not wise to remain here for long."

"You think I don't know that?" she sneered, "I've been doing this long enough to know the danger." The girl let out a snort and brushed past him, heading for the blown-out shell of a bakery a block down.

"You're making it difficult for me tolerate you!" he called after her. She spun around and, while still walking backwards, stuck up her middle finger at him.

"The feeling's mutual!" She spun on her heel and left him, still fuming, to follow after her.

She had tucked herself behind the bakery counter when he found her, cast in shadow and low enough to the ground that she was hard to spot, while still being able to peer through the shattered glass display case to see any incoming demons. Even now she kept an eye out, glaring sharply at Death as he picked his way over a floor covered in splinters of wood. "You just… stay over there, alright?" she pointed to the far end of the building where the wall had crumbled over the edge of a crater, allowing a view of the darkening sky.

"Oh, of course, Your Majesty," the rider quipped, bowing mockingly in the girl's direction, "whatever you say." He scoffed, leaning over the counter to glare at the little human beneath him. "Honestly I don't know why you're so worried. You're of more use to me alive than dead you know."

"Well excuse me for being a little paranoid having a stranger, who by the way is _not human_, watching me while I sleep! Now get lost!" With that she turned over, ducking her head beneath the collar of her jacket that she was using as a blanket. With a snort the Pale Rider left her be, returning to the crater's edge. There he perched, legs swing out over the steep drop. He would keep an eye out while the girl slept, making sure the likes of demons and the swarm didn't show up while his charge was vulnerable. Dust croaked from his shoulder.

"Why am I doing this Dust?" he asked the crow, "she's being more of a liability than I first thought, not to mention she's just about the rudest creature I've ever met. I would probably be better off without her." There was a squawk before Death received a sharp peck to the ear. He swatted at the bird until he flew off, screeching. "I should have known you'd take her side, you traitor," he growled. It was going to be a long day.

Death checked on the girl frequently, mostly to make sure that she hadn't run off when he wasn't looking. Sure enough though, she was asleep, curled up on herself for warmth. For the first two hours she slept peacefully, her usual hard expression smoothed over in the embrace of slumber. As the third hour rolled around however, Death began to hear whimpers and pants drift over to him. Her once-peaceful face was furrowed and her fingers dug into her arms. Minutes trickled by as the girl struggled against her nightmares, curling further into herself as though she were trying to get away from something. Just as Death lowered a hand to shake her awake, she shot bolt upright with a small scream, rifle gripped in white knuckled, finger trembling on the trigger. The barrel was aimed between the rider's eyes.

Grabbing the barrel, Death yanked the gun from the girl's hand just as it went off, the loud report setting his ears to ringing. Without her weapon the girl coward against the cabinet, pupils blown wide, face slack and white with terror. She shook, breath hitching in her chest, staring with unseeing eyes somewhere over his head. Death gently laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling back sharply when she turned and fixed that empty stare on him. Fear, unbridled and depthless looked out from a face that he was used to seeing so closed. Again, he reached out for her shoulders, shaking her slightly in hopes of bringing her back from whatever dark place in her mind she had gone to. She whined in reply, clumsy fingers frantically working to pry his hands from her shoulders. "It's me, girl!" he said, low and urgent, "It's just me."

His voice seemed to reach her and the girl blinked. Gradually her pupils shrank back down, color beginning to return to her face and her chest ceased to heave so. Her head shook as she came to her senses and, upon seeing the rider so close to her, snarled and pushed him away.

"I'm fine," she barked, though her voice was still tight, "I'm fine, it was just a nightmare."

Death studied her, the way her hands were shaking and the sweat that was dripping from her face. She certainly didn't look fine. "Do you get those often?"

She bit her lip and looked away, busying herself with wiping at her eyes. "Sort of," came the grumbling reply, "part of the reason I don't get a lot of sleep." She stood and stretched, grimacing as she felt her back click in several places. "That, and sleeping on floors sucks," she mumbled.

"If you're done, we should probably move on." Death was itching to get moving again, knowing that the precious little time the girl slept meant that the horde would find them soon.

She waved him away. "Yeah, yeah," she said, stifling a yawn behind her head, "go ahead and scout out the block. I'm gonna go raid the pantry and then I'll be right out." She ducked into the bakery's back room and left him to do as she said.

It was the dark of night outside of the bakery and silent as the grave. Not a single cry of undead to be heard. The sounds of the girl rummaging through boxes and cans cut through the still air like a knife. Death felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something wasn't right.

The girl returned with a symphony of clattering as she slung her bulging pack back over her shoulder. "Hey, you see anything?" she asked as a means of greeting but was quickly shushed by a wave of Death's hand, taking note of the tension set in his shoulders and the stillness with which he stood. Silence fell around them like a shroud. It was as though the very city was holding its breath, waiting for the oppressive silence to end.

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!_ The tension shattered like glass as the air filled with the pounding of feet and the raspy cries of the undead.


	3. Chapter 3

A short chapter, but very important nonetheless. I apologize for the delay and apologize in advance for the inevitable delay of future chapters, for I am a college student and am thus very busy (also lazy, but I promise I'm not always like that).

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

Asphalt pounded beneath their feet as they fled. Death was itching to fight but, once again, he had the girl to worry about. If they were overcome, the swarm would tear her to pieces within seconds. He was almost tempted to leave her, let the horde of undead rip the aggravating girl to shreds so he could go about his business unhindered but… no. As much as she tweaked at his nerves Death could not allow her to die, not as long as her existence proved his brother's innocence. And so they ran.

The swarm was persistence however, dogging their steps and coming ever closer. The girl's sides were heaving; how much longer could she keep up this pace?

Claws rent the air at Death's back and he felt his reserve snap. Without much more thought, he grabbed onto the back of the girl's jacket, physically threw her through the nearest open door and whirled to meet the swarm just as it collided into him. They threw themselves upon him with all the fury of a school of piranha, all trying to take a chunk out of the rider. Death never gave them a chance, shredding flesh and bone alike with savage sweeps of his scythes, never moving from his station before the door.

Somewhere from up above there was the loud _crack_ of a gun and the pained scream of a fallen receiving a bullet to the head. Death glanced up long enough to see the girl and his crow crouched on a balcony two stories up, sighting down the barrel of her antique hunting rifle with teeth gritted in a determined sneer. The gun sounded again and the girl flinched as another corpse went down in a spray of blood. Between lead and steel the swarm began to shrink until finally the roar of a Suffering drew the stragglers away.

"What the hell were you thinking, you asshole?!" the girl shouted angrily down at him from her lofty perch in the ensuing quiet. Icy eyes glared at him between the bars of the balcony. Even Dust, from the safe haven of the girl's shoulders, shot him a dirty look.

"It was either fight or let them rip you into small pieces girl!" he shot back, "They very nearly caught up to us. Honestly, I'm surprised you've survived in this place for as long as you have given how careless you are!"

"You're the one who literally _threw me into a building _you prick!" she cried, "And I _never_ had those corpses come after me as hard as that before! Makes me think that _I'm_ not the one they're after!"

Death closed his eyes, the shafts of the scythes creaking beneath his tightening grip as he fought down the anger blooming in his chest. _She's even more impudent than Strife, _he thought bitterly. His younger brother was normally the only one who could irritate him so. "Listen here _girl_," he growled, eyes blazing, "death in a place like this is an inevitability. You are nothing more than a tasty morsel to the demons. Perhaps I should allow them to do as they please with you rather than waste my time protecting you!"

"Well maybe you should!" the girl practically screamed, springing to her feet and upsetting Dust from her shoulder, "There's not really any point in me staying alive is there?! Everyone I know is already dead, right?!" tears were streaming thick and fast down her grime covered cheeks. "Maybe I should just throw myself to the horde! At least then I wouldn't be stuck here, seeing the faces of my friends and families in every undead I kill and being TOTALLY ALONE!" Her voice cracked, the fury draining out of her as she slumped back against the wall and burying her head in her arms, body shaking as she let out one wet sob after another.

Death was silent. His fingers had strayed to the shards of crystal embedded in his chest at the girl's words. He had disciplined himself to push the angry, anguished voices of his slain brethren to the back of his mind, but now they came flooding to the forefront of his thoughts. _Murderer,_ they whispered in sibilant voices, _Kinslayer, this burden is yours alone, Betrayer! _Something heavy settled in his chest, and for the first time since the souls of his fellow nephilim began to haunt him, Death felt guilt.

Slowly, he climbed the rotting stairs to the second story balcony where the girl sat, curled into herself as she cried. He made no attempt to comfort her but simply sat beside her, waiting for as long as it took for her sobs to quiet to hiccups.

"I understand your pain more than you might think, little one," he said softly, though she made no indication that she had heard him. "I too, am alone. My own people are long dead," his fingers grazed the crystal fragments, "There are only four of us now, and one awaits judgment before a corrupt council. But," he looked down at the girl, "_you _can help me save him, and in return, I can save your people."

This made her look up, slowly and unsurely with red-rimmed eyes.

"That had been my goal from the beginning: My brother War was accused of triggering the apocalypse and the extinction of your race. If I could erase his crime and resurrect the souls of humanity, then he would be appeased. You, of course," he smiled tightly down at her, though he knew she couldn't see it, "change things. The fact that you live is proof that my brother was not responsible. To that end, I will do what I must to protect you, even if you are incredibly irritating at times." Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and Death couldn't help but smirk. Even through the tear streaks marking her face she still had the capacity to look angry.

"I will still do as I originally planned however," he continued, "your people can still be saved. It was not yet their time."

The girl sniffed in reply, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her face and only succeeding in smearing the dirt around. She set her chin on her knees, contemplation in her expression as she took in the view of her shattered city around her. Was he telling the truth?

"I understand if you don't believe me," he said, and with a chuckle he added, "and to be honest if I were in your situation I probably wouldn't. You've only the word of a stranger to go on, after all."

"You're making a horrible case for yourself," she mumbled at last, though her voice was still thick and croaky.

"Yes, well I'd hardly call diplomacy my strong suit," he retorted, "I've been told I'm too sarcastic for it, though I can _hardly_ imagine why." The edge of the girl's lip twitched, but just a tiny bit.

"I did not mean what I said before," he continued, genuinely trying to sound like he meant it, as unused to such delicate conversations as he was. He had to once again remind himself that the girl was only human, lost in a world where things only wanted to harm her and without the strength to fight back. "I won't allow the demons to hurt you, but to that end you must listen to me and do as I say when I say it. That is, if you're still willing to accompany me."

She was silent for a long while, looking everywhere but him, picking at the dirt under her fingernails or watching Dust as he wheeled by overhead. Eventually she heaved an enormous sigh, turning bloodshot blue eyes on him. For a moment, he almost feared she'd say no, that she would choose the knowledge of inevitable death over the slight possibility of survival.

"M'kay," came her quiet answer, and Death gave in internal sigh of relief. Standing up, he offered her a hand, one she looked at dubiously before reluctantly taking it and allowing him to haul her to her feet.

The girl remained silent until they reached the street, where Dust's shrill cries announced his return. Much to Death's surprise as well as the girl's, the crow alighted upon the human's small shoulder and nuzzled his head against her cheek.

"Well, at least someone's happy you're still here," Death commented, watching the girl raise a tentative finger to stroke the feathers of Dust's neck, "What Dust, is my shoulder not good enough anymore?"

The bird croaked and took a few more moments to indulge in the girl's affections before fluttering back to his customary perch on his master's shoulder.

"I don't get why he's suddenly decided that he likes me so much," she said softly, voice still not quite recovered from her outburst, "when we first met he looked like he was ready to peck my eyes out."

"As you said before, you're his back-up shoulder. He was just glad that there was somewhere comfortable to sit while I do all the work. Where would he go if you decided to leave?" Dust gave an irritable hiss and took off again, leaving Death to sigh and say, "My, so sensitive." The twitch of the girl's lip stayed a little longer this time.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4! Now with: More Mastery of Sass, Dead Angels, and Demon Fillets! Come get yours today!

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Death couldn't help but notice that as she led him further and further into the rotting concrete jungle of the city the girl still maintained a good deal of distance between them. So she still didn't trust him, not that he could blame her considering that even _he_ didn't really know what he was doing. At least now he understood a good deal more of her apprehension; through her fit of emotion she had revealed her doubts, her feelings of Survivor's Guilt, that there were times when she wished for her death if only to escape the visions of her friends and families in the faces of the fallen.

Still, it seemed as though the outburst had done her some good. Sure, the twitchiness of paranoia was still there and was unlikely to ever go away, but some of the tension had left her shoulders with the release of so much pent up emotion.

By the time they had stopped walking the sun had risen almost fully into the sky and the heat could be seen shimmering off the tarmac beneath the intensity of its light. Death wished he could have called Despair; His spectral steed would have made short work of navigating the city, but the eldritch wards placed over the Earth by the Charred Council made summoning the beast impossible. Death had probably found the very last portal to the war torn world in all of Creation.

"Hey," the girl called at last, directing his attention to the mouth of a tunnel that sloped down into the depths of the earth, clogged with abandoned cars, "I'm pretty sure the next piece is down there."

"How sure is 'pretty sure'?" he asked skeptically. She didn't sound too certain.

She shrugged. "75% sure?"

He gave her a pointed look. "Does that mean that the other 25% is leading us into a dead end that will do nothing but waste out time?"

"Look, I don't make it my business to go wandering into demon nests, alright?" she retorted. "All I know is that I saw a lot of demon activity the last time I was around here. Besides, we're stuck until we get all three pieces right? So we might as well give it a shot."

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," the Horseman conceded before looking to the crow on his shoulder, "Make yourself useful and scout out ahead for us." Dust cawed and took off on silent wings into the darkness.

"Are you actually coming this time?" he asked the girl.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not staying out here by myself!" she cried, "I'm coming with! But… I'll stay out of the way if things get… slashy."

"Be sure that you do," he peered bitterly down into the depths, "With our luck there will be plenty of demons to get in the way."

"Fantastic," came her deadpan reply as she pulled her rifle from her shoulder to check her ammunition, "this is exactly what I wanted to do with my day."

"It's certain to a lovely time," he said in mock assurance, "shall we?"

"After you, Big Guy."

The sprawling underpass was dank and cold, a harsh contrast from the blistering heat of the surface. The girl and the rider walked in silence, waiting with bated breath for demons to start crawling from the walls. But nothing came.

"What's the big deal?" she whispered, squinting to try to see through the gloom, "Where are all the demons?"

"They are probably further in, guarding the rod. They must know we're looking for them by now," he told her. "Now stay silent. We wouldn't want to tempt fate, now would we?"

Her mouth snapped shut, but he could see her grimace of irritation. Clearly she still had trouble accepting his authority. She reminded Death of War in a way, but he beat the thought down right after vowing to never let the two of them meet. Having two such volatile personalities in the same place? Death shuddered at the thought.

As he rounded the bend however, Death felt that shudder tickle his spine and stopped in his tracks at what he saw. The girl practically ran into him.

"Hey! What's- oh my god…" her jaw dropped open at the gruesome sight: Angels, dozens of them, plucked of their feathers and hanging like butterflies pinned to a collector's board. Their bodies decorated the walls of the tunnel, painting crimson streaks on the concrete with long-dried blood. And some of them were still _alive_.

"There is no God for them now girl," he said darkly, leading the way through the gory gallery. Uriel had told him of this, how the soldiers of her Hellguard had been captured by demons, their pain and suffering used like batteries to fuel the dark armies of the Destroyer. Those that still lived were beyond saving. Death could only offer them a quick release from their torment. And so the Horseman went to work, systematically visiting those defeated angels who still clung to life, releasing their trapped souls with a swift blade through the chest. Each smiled with unbridled relief as they finally breathed their last.

The girl trailed behind him at a distance, stepping gingerly over the carpet of blood and feathers, averting her eyes whenever Death's scythe cut through angelic metal. Her revulsion was palpable, but it was not caused by the stench of gore and rot.

"How could they just-" she started to say as the last angel died, stopping to cover her mouth with a shaking hand and swallowing thickly. She tried again, "I know this is war but- _this_… I think I get it now when they say there are fates worse than death."

Death himself didn't respond. If only she knew what he had done to his own people, perhaps she would not be so willing to follow him.

"Come," he told her, "We must be getting close." He didn't realize how wrong he was.

As they trekked deeper the tunnel slowly turned into a labyrinth of passageways that led off further into the darkness. Some had clearly been there before; access and maintenance tunnels that once aided in the upkeep of the underpass. Others were clearly less so, like they were made by enormous worms that had tunneled up from underground. In places it seemed as though the ground had split open into a drop down into the fetid waters of what might have once been a sewer. In other places great horns of basalt and obsidian jutted from the walls and floor, a core of magma glowing from behind cracks in the stone and turning the already dank air horribly humid and sticky. It was just a generally unpleasant place to be.

"We're lost, aren't we?" the girl finally commented at one point.

Death bit back a sigh. "We may very well be, yes," he admitted as he fought back the growing irritation.

"Where's Dust anyway?" she remarked, taking note of the crow's absence, "Wasn't he supposed to try and find a way through?"

"Yes, yes he was…" Death issued a sharp mental call and waited impatiently for the sound of flapping wings. Eventually, Dust came gliding out of the gloom to land on the Horseman's outstretched hand. "Took our time, did we?" he admonished the bird. Dust ducked his head and let out a morose squawk. "Did you find something at least?" Once more Dust screeched and took off, swooping into a side passage and perching on a broken pipe to wait for them.

"Great," the girl sighed, "at least _the bird_ knows what he's doing."

"And he's not likely to let me forget it anytime soon… Come, we'd best follow him."

Dust led the way further into the tunnels, until the even the flickering electrics failed to beat away the darkness.

"Shit, I can't see a thing," the girl hissed, "_please_ tell me we're almost there."

"Afraid of the dark, are we?" Death teased, amused with the way the girl's face twisted into a snarl.

"No!" she snapped hotly, "I just don't want to run into something that can eat me!"

"Than I'd stop walking if I were you," the Horseman grabbed her shoulder and forced her to stop just as something large slithered through the intersection ahead.

"Oooookay, I'll stay here then. Come back when all the demons are dead!" she slipped away and hid herself in the shadows behind a concrete barrier. Dust squawked from his perch nearby, nervously hopping from foot to foot.

"Oh, just go," the Horseman told the bird, "It's not like I'll need your help with this anyway." The crow looked offended for just a moment before he took off after the girl. Death could hear the squeak of surprise when Dust no doubt took a place for himself on her skinny shoulder.

The demons never saw the Horseman coming as Death blended into the darkness, moving with unnatural grace and never making a sound until he dropped on a pack of them from above. The girl, watching from a distance as she crept from cover to cover to keep up with him, could've sworn that the Horseman was dancing, dipping in and out of the carnage in flashes of steel and sprays of blood. It occurred to her that this was the first time that she had actually seen him in a real fight and could not help but stare transfixed as Death became a whirlwind, his weapon flowing between two scythes and one so fast that it was hard to see.

Death too had let himself become submerged in the tranquility of battle. Demons and Fallen alike fell like wheat in a field. It was almost _too_ easy. None of them could touch him no matter how hard they tried. In truth he was getting a bit bored. The last of the creatures fell with little more than a casual flick of the wrist. He turned back to collect the girl and-

**"****Is this what you've been reduced to, ****_Horseman?_****"** the voiced boomed down the corridor, twisted with humor, **"A ****_caretaker_**** for pathetic creatures such as ****_this?"_**At the end of the hall stood a demon so tall that the great wreath of horns adorning its head brushed the ceiling. The girl dangled with its huge hand wrapped around her neck, kicking uselessly at the beast's massive belly and clawing at the scaly fingers slowly crushing her windpipe. The demon gave her a shake, laughing cruelly when she fell still, head spinning. **"Quite small isn't it?" **It mused, tilting its head to examine her like a cut of meat, **"It would hardly make for more of a mouthful."**

"Put. Her. Down," Death said slowly, fists tightening around the haft of the scythes, and took a step forward. The demon put a little more pressure on the girl's throat, forcing forth a small whimper. Death stopped.

**"****Uh, uh, uh, Horseman,"** the demon snickered, black eyes gleaming with triumph, **"Take another step and I snap this little thing's neck. How much is it worth to you, I wonder?" **Death was silent, but remained where he was. The girl's face was beginning to turn blue, her vision going dark around the edges.

**"****The Rod, Horseman,"** it grinned, **"I know you have a piece of it. If I return it, the Destroyer will reward me handsomely. Hand it over, Horseman, and I may just grant this ****_thing_**** a quick de-"**

It never got the chance to finish. With the most fluid of motions, Death threw one of the scythes into a spinning arc, severing the demon's hand at the wrist. The girl came crashing to the floor, taking great gulping breaths and coughing when it failed to properly refill her lungs. Looking up with pain-blurred eyes, she took in the flurry of motion that was Death colliding into the demon's chest and sending them both toppling back into the corridor.

Except suddenly it wasn't Death anymore. An enormous being stood in his place, face cast into perfect shadow by a deep hood and great skeletal wings spreading from its back, keeping it hovering above the ground as it shed thick, bruise-purple mist from the ends of a tattered cloak. In large fingers of bone it held a scythe with a blade as long as the being was tall; which was to say very long, as the being was nearly as tall as the demon it was currently busy carving to pieces. There was a squelch and a horrible agonized bellow as the scythe sliced through the demon's torso like a hot knife through butter, spilling blood and viscera in a thick stream. But the attacker wasn't finished. It shoved the blade of the scythe upwards into the beast's ribcage, pausing for a moment to let it suffer, choking on its own blood, before violently ripping the blade out in a magnificent explosion of violence and shards of bone.

As the demon's body disintegrated into embers and ash the being became engulfed in a cloud of violet mist. Death stood amidst the gore when it finally dissipated. The girl unconsciously flattened herself against the wall when he approached, still seeing that other being every other time she blinked.

"Are you all right, little one?" he asked. She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to say anything without starting to panic. She tenderly touched fingers to her neck, grimacing when they pressed into the purpling flesh of her throat. That would hurt for a while. She pulled herself shakily to her feet and awkwardly tried to clear her throat, only succeeding in bending her double with another coughing fit. She waved him off, croaking something that might have been "I'll live", and followed the Horseman.

Her thoughts wandered as she walked. _I just nearly _Died, she realized, reaching up to prod at the pattern of blooming bruises around her neck. Yep, they still hurt. _A _Demon _just tried to _Kill _me. Tried to use me like a bargaining chip with-_ She glanced over at the huge masked man walking beside her. He had saved her life, protected her like he had promised. He could have just let the demon snap her neck, but he _didn't_.

Fingers reached out and tugged on Death's cloak. He turned to find the girl with one hand clenching the fabric and the other hovering uncertainly around her bruised throat. Her face was scrunched with something akin to embarrassment rather than fear or anger. She swallowed, grimacing when the bruises throbbed.

"Thank you," she said quietly, unable to make her voice any louder, "for… saving my life Big Guy."

Death blinked in surprise. He honestly hadn't expected that level of humility from a tongue nearly as sarcastic as his own. "There's no need to thank me," he answered, "I couldn't very well have let that beast strangle you, now could I?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Girl, when I said that I would protect you, I meant it. You're not going to die unless I say so."

She pulled a face at his wording, but stayed silent. She didn't think she had the voice to argue anyway.

He chuckled at the exaggeration of her expression. It really was funny the way she could talk just with her face. "Come, we're getting close, I can feel it."


End file.
